


Unconventional

by Overlord



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom
Genre: Ableism, Ableist Language, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Human, Cannibalism, Dark Comedy, Enemies to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Organized Crime, Past Abuse, Past Racism, Scheming, Serial Killers, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-14
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-01-01 11:33:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1044339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Overlord/pseuds/Overlord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A teenage, amateur serial killer by the name of Jeff accidentally gets involved with organized crime. Dr. Jack Eyrich, the syndicate's resident top doctor, is possibly the scariest individual in the area. The relationship between the two starts off rather badly, and only gets stranger after that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. dr. jack eyrich, decidedly, would be a problem

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to note here that I both update weirdly (but I'm vastly encouraged to update by comments and feedback!), and I've only read the original stories for both of these characters (I think the stories are terribly written but for some reason, love playing around with these characters. Oops. It's a long story.)
> 
> I should also note that I don't support any of the very messed up things any characters do or say, and you shouldn't either, but if you find it a bit fun or thrilling in a scary but interesting way in stories, that's cool and so do I!
> 
> Don't be afraid to talk to me, I don't bite. If you like my story please do comment and subscribe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I edited a lot of this first chapter, so its a bit longer and nicer now. Jazzy. Anyway. Got my interest in this fic back again. Its a rather fun AU, one where Jeff's backstory in particular is a little changed, and of course Jack gets a nice new different one. This version of Jack is, initially, pretty different than the Jack in my other story but is also very much the same Jack as I see him in a very specific way. Same joke-ish last name as usual, too. But lets say his morality is down and bloodlust is up. Fantastic.

“So,” The doctor gave a smile, hands behind his back. “You’re the new one, aren’t you? Caught messing around in this syndicate’s business, decided to just get involved to avoid even more consequences. Like washing dishes at a restaurant because you can’t pay for your meal.” The man chuckled to himself. His voice was honeyed, but his words a bit condescending. Not enough to raise alarm bells yet, it was only very slight, but it was there. “...I haven’t properly introduced myself yet, have I? My apologies. I’m Dr. Jack Eyrich, as I’m sure you’ve been told.” Eyrich was a tall, slim, dark haired and skinned man in relaxed but nice clothing. His office had a lot of neutral colors, an overabundance of bookcases, and everything was clean.

Jeff shrugged, quickly deciding that he didn’t see what all the fuss was about. Others had warned him about his first trip to the local medic already, but perhaps they were just trying to spook him. They had been pretty vague about it, after all. “Yeah, yeah. Can you just patch me up already? I have better things to do than listen to some washed up doctor, y’know.”

Eyrich stopped smiling for the first time since Jeff had showed up. His face looked eerily different without the warm smile there. His eyes were the opposite of warm- Jeff could see that now, without the smile to counter it. “Hm. Stab wound, was it?”

Jeff nodded, sitting on the doctor’s desk and lifting up his hoodie and bloodied t-shirt to allow access to his side.

“I see, this isn’t too bad, is it? You got off rather lucky,” Eyrich observed thoughtfully, smile returning just as easily as it had gone. He placed a few fingers lightly near the wound. Jeff shivered a little.

The doctor then gently brushed the fingers over, and clawed them into the wound mercilessly.

Jeff let out a shocked half-scream and forcefully shoved the doctor’s arm away, scrambling backwards and actually _falling off of the stupid desk._ He took a few books and papers flying with him.

Eyrich took a small towel and cleaned the blood off of his thin fingers. He spoke as he did so, without looking at the teenager on his floor. “So! Jeff, was it? You should remember that just as I can make things better for you, I can also make them worse. Being so disrespectful can easily allow me an excuse to make your life a living hell, understand?” Jack finally looked over at Jeff, after a pause. “Don’t overestimate your own worth, child.”

Jeff shook with anger, but he was quiet, trying to make his own face blank again. He clutched his side, and stood back up.

He really, really hated being called a child.

“Now, come over here, would you? I’ll fix you up good as new, if you behave properly this time,” Eyrich said brightly, the warning behind it clear. “Do you agree to do that? I won’t a offer a second chance more than once. Takes away the whole point of a second chance, wouldn’t you say?”

“Fine,” Jeff muttered, leaning up at the desk rather than sitting, and far more cautiously this time.

“You’ll call me ‘Dr. Eyrich’ when you address me.”

“Fine, _Dr. Eyrich,_ ” Jeff growled.

“Better! But we’ll need to work on your tone,” Eyrich said, sounding optimistic. “Do you know what my passion is, recruit?”

This guy was too damn chatty.

“You’re a doctor,” Jeff said blankly. His head was more in survival mode than in guessing game mode, so he couldn’t come up with anything more creative just then. He’d heard that Eyrich was different, and those rumors seemed to be right, but nothing specific. He wasn’t very high ranked yet, and didn’t get as much gossip. Or maybe nobody wanted to talk about it.

“Ahaha, close. That’s my job.” Eyrich took out a box of equipment and started to rifle through it. “My _passion_ , however, is torture. I’m not, in fact, some washed up doctor, taking the only work I could find- I sought this life out for a reason. Oh, and I’m not just speaking of liking the petty stabbing and slashing your type enjoys, _no_ , I’m talking about an art form.” He took in a breath, and grinned slowly. His eyes were lit up, like he was recalling a good memory. “I can make people sing so sweetly. The kind of screams you’ve never even dreamed of hearing.”

Jeff eyed the doctor, deciding to keep his mouth shut. This little monologue really wasn’t the best thing to hear from someone about to mess around with your open wound. Shutting up seemed like it might make his chances better with this too unknown danger.

“Everyone is a bit different, and I can bring out so many new things in their voices.” Eyrich found what he was looking for and started to deal with the stab wound. “I think it’s a talent I was born with. And who would I be to turn away from something I'm so naturally good at?”

Jeff hadn’t met anyone like this before. He may murder people, but this guy was in a whole other category. He had urges, and the whole thing gave him a thrill, but he could tell they weren’t quite the same in the way they went about doing things. That this man took his time with what he did, and was all fucking thoughtful about it. Jeff was mostly about the end result, while this guy was all about the process.

“...I wonder what your voice would sound like,” Eyrich mused softly, what looked like a curious glint flashing in his eyes for a second.

Jeff narrowed his eyes, hoping the other would be done as soon as possible.

The doctor was quiet and focused on his work for the rest of the time that remained.

Eyrich stretched like a cat, and sank down in his desk’s chair when he was finished up. “I’ll see you whenever you mess up again, rookie. Which for your type is always sooner rather than later, so I suppose I’ll be seeing you a _lot_ , huh?”

He then proceeded to ignore Jeff in favor of looking through his various papers.

Jeff only allowed himself to have a small breakdown once he was out of the building Jack's office was in, and halfway through an empty alleyway. He knocked over a bunch of trash cans, effectively scaring the shit out of a random cat, then punched a brick wall and regretted it the instant he did it. He pulled on his own hair and clothes and tried to do anything to express the mix of anger, outrage, and anxiety he felt.

Well.

Dr. Jack Eyrich, decidedly, would be a problem.

Jeff was suddenly a lot more keen on avoiding future large injuries, no matter how danger-prone he was.

He could’ve also thought to just find a different, less threatening doctor to use, but even Jeff had to admit that Jack Eyrich was actually pretty goddamn good at his job.

It would be almost funny, if the man really was just as good at fixing things as he apparently was at breaking them.


	2. you’ll definitely regret your choices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Jeff makes bad choices (but since when is that new?)

Jack Eyrich lay, half sprawled out, in his desk's chair. Books and papers were either on him, on his desk, or scattered across the floor. He fell asleep many nights like this, and couldn't seem to be able to get out of the habit.

The sound of the doorknob being rattled woke him up.

Jack leapt up immediately, books falling off of him and onto the floor in the process. Slightly out of it, he blinked and glanced around, then relaxed when he remembered where he was. It often took him a moment when he woke up to notice he was safe, since he was a rather paranoid person. With good reason, seeing what he did.

He turned his attention to the door, feeling vaguely irritated over being woken up. He checked the time on the clock in his room, and seeing it was six in the morning, his irritation grew quite a bit. Jack may give the impression he was a morning person, but he really was anything but that. Not that he’d admit to it.

He thought about his own clothes and hair, disheveled from sleep, and fussed over himself for a moment so he could at least look slightly decent. One must keep up appearances, after all.

He made his way over to the door, unlocked it, and pulled it open.

The newest arrogant brat of a criminal, Jeff, was in the hall. The kid definitely stood out, with his dyed black hair and a certain overdone swagger in his walk.

Jeff's hands moved quickly to be hidden in his pockets, but Jack didn't miss the gesture.

"Were you just trying to pick the lock on my door?" Jack asked, raising an eyebrow and giving an amused look.

Jeff frowned at him. "No."

Jack smirked, deciding he'd let the boy find out about the alarms that'd been set up on his own if he tried getting into his office again. That would no doubt be entertaining.

Jack the other over lazily. "What is it you want, exactly? Injured again?" He couldn't see anything noticeable.

What Jack did notice, however, was that the younger man looked rather tense. He thought for a moment this was just from being around Jack, as he had that effect on people, but it was something other than that.

Jeff glanced over his shoulder, and Jack figured it out right then.

"Did you get yourself into trouble? Again?" Jack asked curiously. "Wait a moment, and you came to _me_ for help?" He grinned wickedly. "That seems a bit contradictory."

Jeff glared up at the other, then pushed past him. "Yeah, I know, that's the same thing I thought," He growled. "But I didn't think you'd be in here at this time, so I was just going to lay low in here a while. It was closest place I could get to."

Jack very politely resisted the urge to break a few of the other's fingers for pushing him. This kid owed him a hell of a lot of favors. "Sorry to disappoint you by actually being here, then," Jack said with a completely healthy amount of sarcasm. "Can you give me one good reason why shouldn't I just kick you out, or even deliver you to your tormentors?"

“This place is a mess,” Jeff commented, sounding quite shocked over the fact.

“And this’ll be the only time you’ll see it like this,” Jack said, closing the door. “Answer my question, if you please.”

Jeff thought about this for a moment. “You’ve got… kind of your own thing going, don’t you?”

“What are you implying?” Jack crossed his arms, leaning on the door.

“You do things that are separate from the group sometimes,” Jeff explained, shrugging. “Like, I don’t know, you have your own authority, don’t you? Some people work more for you than anyone else.”

“Oh, so you _have_ noticed,” Jack said cheerily. “That’s correct. I do my own business when I can. I like having options. With the way I’ve set things up, I may never lose my job.”

Jeff shifted his weight from foot to foot. “So, you’d offer a little protection to people who worked for you, right?”

Jack tilted his head. “Absolutely not.”

Jeff looked a little stunned.

Jack laughed, and went on. “I like having people who can take care of themselves. But if I’m understanding your offer, I could make an exception.”

Jeff’s face lit up, despite himself. “Hey, I’ll take anything I can get.”

Jack almost pitied the kid for a second for thinking that way, because he really did not know what he was getting into. _Almost_ pitied, but not really.

“Very well,” Jack said. “But there’ll be rules.”

“Yeah, sure,” Jeff said dismissively. “I don’t care.”

“And you’ll definitely regret your choices,” Jack continued.

Jeff gave Jack a brief uncertain look, then shrugged it off again. “I’ll deal with it. And I don’t regret things, anyway.”

“I’ll make sure you will this time,” Jack assured the other with a smile. “I have a talent for it.” If there was anything Jack liked, it was teaching lessons to destructive children who thought they were better than everyone else- which really was what most people were. The more the merrier, at least in Jack’s case.

Jeff frowned, and sat in Jack’s chair.

“Don’t sit in my chair,” Jack told him.

Jeff narrowed his eyes, and got out of the chair begrudgingly.

That the teenager was wasting his energy being angry over something as small as that made Jack want to laugh. He’d wish that was the only problem he had later.

 


	3. he left such a vivid memory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my god i haven't updated this thing in so ridiculously long. my writing has improved a lot since i last wrote for it. i should really try rewriting those last chapters a little, but instead i went ahead and wrote an entirely new chapter. its more of a setting things up chapter than a huge actiony chapter. its four am, the usual time i randomly update fics i leave alone for months, when i'm posting this. sighs
> 
> edit: added a little more to the end of this chapter! I'd written it forever ago but forgotten to add it on the ao3 ver of this fic.

Jeff was woken up by a kick in the gut. And not a gentle one. Not even close.

He was able to blearily glare at expensive looking black shoes, and behind those, another blurred figure. He groaned while clutching at his stomach and trying to get his eyes to focus.

He heard some slightly unhappy sounding muttering, presumably coming from the person in the room furthest from him.

“Oh please, I could’ve done worse,” Came an exasperated and very familiar voice. “Deserves as much for not having a cell phone. That just won’t do at all. I don’t want to come all the way to this dirty place _every time_ I want to use him for something.” A pause, then the next words seemed pointed more directly at him and not just about him. “Wakey-wakey, sweetheart.”

Jeff cringed slightly, curling his lip. He didn’t know how anyone could manage to make their voice so sickeningly sugary.

He was almost jealous. Almost.

He’d know his pride was really dead when he admitted to being even the slightest bit jealous of anything involving Dr. Jack Eyrich.

The amateur criminal managed to scramble up and stand just before Jack was going to kick him again again.

Jack looked at him for a moment, then down at the ground, and back up again. He smiled. “Syndicate housing, hm? Nice sleeping bag you have there. Is it comfortable?”

Jeff shrugged. “I don’t mind much. I’ve had worse.” His eyes drifted over to the other criminal in the doorway, who was probably the one who led Eyrich to him, and made sure to glare at the person- even though they didn’t look too happy about the whole thing either.

“Aw, aren’t we tough?” Jack leered. “Well, good. I can give you all the awful jobs without having a guilty conscience, since you can handle it so well. You've had worse.”

Jeff bristled, trying not to react. That’s what Jack wanted. Jeff really could take whatever the man threw at him, anyway. He didn’t give a shit. And he really doubted the doctor would have a guilty conscience either way. “Sure,” Jeff said, flashing his own grin. “What’s the plan, doc?”

Jack seemingly went to give Jeff a pat on the shoulder, but apparently decided to curl his arm around the teenager instead. Jack started moving, practically forcing Jeff to start walking with him (or trip), having to make a slight effort to keep up with Jack’s long legged strides.

“There you go, it’s all about attitude!” Jack praised. “I’m so glad you asked. For your first, uh, _mission_ , you’re going to deliver something for me.”

Jeff almost froze (and really would have fallen flat on his face) before coming to his senses again. He was about to question what Jack had said, but kept his mouth tightly shut for once.

 _It sounds too easy,_ he wanted to say, _is that all?_ But what if it was just that? Perfectly easy? He didn’t want to jinx it by whining, as he tended to do just about always. Jack might take him asking about it as an excuse to decide to make him do something harder instead, and then claim it was Jeff’s own fault. So Jeff wouldn't ask. 

See, he could be smart too.

...Probably.

The air outside was cold, biting at any exposed skin. Jack hadn’t even given Jeff a chance to put on more clothes than the stuff he’d slept in, or take anything with him, Jeff realized. Panic threatened to build in him in response to that observation. At least he always kept plenty of knives on him, even when he was asleep.

Weird obsessions did have their benefits, Jeff was now pleased to be able to say.

Jack had a car waiting for them at the street. The back door of the vehicle was soon opened, and Jack was insistently pushing Jeff inside. Jack got in himself soon after, and shut the door again behind them.

Just the faintest shifting was what told Jeff they were moving. He’d never had such a smooth car ride before. It was odd, made him feel a bit detached from the outside world- more so than usual.

“This sorta feels like a kidnapping,” Jeff commented. He only realized he'd said it out loud when it was too late to take back.

Jack laughed, a deceptively soft sound. “Oh, believe me- when I _really_ kidnap you, you’ll know.”

 _When,_ Jeff thought with a scowl. _He said when, not if. This weird bastard._

“Ah,” Jack murmured. “that’s right- here we go.” He pulled a nondescript briefcase out from under his seat, setting it in his lap. He also pulled out some other things, and handed them over to Jeff. “For you, kid.”

He was being given clothes. A big, warm looking coat, and a baseball hat. Jeff blinked at them for a second, before putting on both of them.

“Haha, you didn’t question that much, did you?” Jack observed, smirking. “I thought your rebelliousness might last a bit longer. I’m just the tiniest bit disappointed, I won’t lie.”

Jeff tensed up in protest. “Oh, it will last longer,” He muttered. “I'm just damn cold, alright? You didn't give me time to put on more layers, so I'm definitely taking these. Don’t read into it so much. I’m not just another submissive, terrified little lackey or anything.”

Jack smiled. His amused, mildly condescending expression seemed to translate into 'so you say,' for a second.

“Perfect, then," Jack breathed, sounding genuinely relieved. "I was hoping to _break it out of you._ Isn’t fun without a fight, right? ...Without a game?”

Jeff stared blankly at the back of the drivers seat in front of him. “No,” Jeff finally agreed. “It isn’t.”

* * *

Jeff wished he had a better memory for places. For things in general. It all slipped away too quickly. Especially the feeling of a blade sinking into flesh, the noises of life fading away, the rush of power and the all-around excitement. One moment he’d created the perfect memory, one to properly satisfy and calm all his twisted urges, and then it was _gone_ after a month or two. Maybe less. It was always less, lately. That scared him like nothing else did. But fear didn’t last long. Fear, like all other emotions, was taken over by an itching inside him that could only be silenced by having death on his hands.

Truly vivid memories were the stuff of dreams, a gift.

So he thought. He had a few new memories, the first so detailed in a while. They were memories of Jack Eyrich.

He had to take under consideration if he could really refer to them as ‘gifts’ or not. Most of him screamed that _not is the answer to that question._  But the sheer colorfulness of the emotions there, the way he could visualize and recall everything almost as if it was still happening- despite the subject matter, that was most definitely a gift.

Blue eyes. Blue eyes so cold it almost hurt to look at them, accompanied with a range of smiles for any occasion. Sometimes it was a warm smile, but it never reached those eyes. The eyes, they were what gave everything away, if you _really looked at them._ It was as clear as day. But the smiles made for a skillful distraction.

Standing outside a dark, old looking building in his large fluffy coat, Jeff almost forgot how he’d even gotten started on that line of thought. It was a little creepy, suddenly daydreaming about your temporary(?) bosses' eyes. And mouth. Yeah, that was... that was pretty iffy. It was only because he left such a vivid memory, and Jeff naturally got a little caught up in that memory.

And the first reason he'd started thinking that way was because of his shit memory. He felt like he might regret not having a better one later.

He didn’t know much about Jack, that was true. And yet he also seemed to have gained a lot more information about the man than he would about most people such a short time- so that meant something, didn’t it? From what little (or very much, depending on the perspective), he knew about Jack Eyrich, he'd decided that the man’s actions were all very deliberate.

This delivery he was having Jeff carry out, sure, it could hypothetically just be something really boring- but one could bet there was a way higher chance of it being the opposite of that. This situation could somehow, even very subtly, come back to bite Jeff in the ass. Which is why he wanted to try to remember as much about what was happening right then as possible. How well that was going remained to be seen.

Although Jeff guessed it was going pretty badly.

He finally stopped lingering and went up the steps of the building. He tugged his hood up more, and pulled down his hat, grimacing a little.

It was easy.

He just knocked on the door, handed the briefcase over to the person who responded to his knock (whose uninteresting face was drifting from his head already), and told them not to open it until they were somewhere private. That was it.

That somehow only freaked Jeff out more. Christ, he was paranoid. And he thought he just had a lot of bloodlust. No, paranoia too, apparently.

He met up with Jack again and got in the car. Jack seemed to radiate cheerfulness. Jeff could try to hope that meant the doctor would be nicer to him, but that was still doubtful.

They went back to Jack’s office (apartment?) instead of the shelter Jeff was staying at, and as soon as they got through the door Jack stripped the coat and hat from Jeff.

Jeff wasn’t happy. He’d just started to get used to the feeling of a nice coat, the hat being slightly less of a concern. He wasn’t sure why he'd somehow been convinced he’d get to keep them. That was a little stupid to expect, but he was still displeased.

Jack arched his eyebrows. “You thought they were a gift?”

Jeff shrugged half-heartedly. “...I mean, maybe, I guess. I followed your instructions pretty well.”

“A child could’ve followed those instructions ‘pretty well’, Jeff,” Jack replied, remaining unimpressed. “Which is fitting, seeing you are one.”

Jeff narrowed his eyes. _Don’t fall for it. Don’t fall for it. He wants that. Don’t do it._

_He’s going to get you to snap eventually, though._

Maybe that was true, but Jeff wanted the thing he snapped over to be a little bigger. So he’d hold back as much as possible, test his limits now and then, try and let the doctor get more used to his presence, maybe a bit more lenient. Push the boundaries tiny bits each times until it all falls apart. Maybe after all that he could snap.

Sounded like an awfully ambitious and stupid strategy, but it was the only one he had.

“Jeff?” Jack called before he left, suddenly catching him by the arm.

Jeff stared at Jack’s hand on him, frowning and forcing himself to make eye contact with Jack. “What? What do you want now? Did you forget about more errands you had to get someone else to do?” He bit his own tongue quickly for impulsively spitting out words again. “I mean, ugh… yes that’s me, Jeff, can I help you?”

“I will keep my word and try make to sure nobody other than me bothers you, as payment, but uh,” Jack paused, an odd look on his face that Jeff didn’t understand. “You can, actually, still take odd jobs from other people when I don’t need you for anything. If you want to. Just making that clear. In fact, I encourage it! Please, associate yourself with as many people other than me as possible.”

Jeff squinted. “You’re- what? What are you even going on about, doc?”

Jack winked, letting his hand slip from Jeff’s arm, no longer holding him there. “Nothing at all. Or was it everything? Haha, who knows. Maybe you’ll find out eventually, if you’re patient. And good.”

Jeff shook his head. “I’m like, _super_ bad at figuring out ominous bullshit most of the time, so I still have no idea what you’re talking about, but uh… okay. If you say so.” _Hearing Jack tell anyone to be ‘good’ is a little ridiculous, though._

“Alright, lovely. Now shoo, I don’t have anything else for you to do today. At this second that is, maybe I’ll change my mind in an hour. But that isn’t important right now. Unless you find paperwork fun, leave me alone.”

Jeff agreed without any fuss. Paranoia over the easiness of his first ‘mission’ from the doctor or not, another part of him was happy to be done (and away from Jack).

Not to mention, paperwork scared the fuck out of him.


	4. you start out a sad story, then you’re just like the rest of us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well uh, here's even more stuff I forgot to add to this version of the fic, and then something that wasn't part of the chapter over at fanfiction.net. I'm so jumbled with this stuff, I know. But some comments reminded me I actually had things written and not posted over here, which is rather unfair. And I might just write a brand new update in a minute. This fic is a lot easier to add to than my other one, as it's a lot simpler and less long (as in, long things are really hard to go through and edit, and my other fic needs so much editing and general rewriting it's intimidating)
> 
> But anyway, I am generally pretty encouraged by comments, haha. I swear I'm not dead.

_‘Local teenager brutally murders three, flees police,’_ read the rather promising headline of the first article Jack had found. Other similar titles popped up under it, but it was dated as the first written, and when doing research Jack thought it was best to start from the beginning. He wiggled into a more comfortable position in his cushy library chair, computer settled in his lap, and clicked on the link.

_‘-parents claim they knew nothing of the bullying, or that their son was capable of such acts even when pushed-’_

_‘-sibling feels responsible for not trying harder to speak out about his brother’s suffering, and that they had both been harassed since they’d moved there three years ago, but that his brother had probably gotten the worst of it-’_

Jack finished skimming through the article, and picked one a little further ahead in time. He wasn’t surprised to find that the closer to the present you got, the less the articles were ‘suffering sixteen year old boy has mental break and attacks bullies, family heartbroken, wish they had seen it sooner,’ and more ‘young serial killer continues to commit disturbing acts, family disgusted, doesn’t know where it all went wrong.’

Jack set his laptop down, and reclined in his chair. “Aw, boo hoo,” He mumbled to himself. “That’s how it works, doesn’t it? You start out a sad story, then you’re just like the rest of us. Doesn’t make you special.”

He snickered for a second. “Well, not like he’s _trying_ to be, of course. He didn’t come to me crying about his miserable past, I just looked the kid up on the internet. Can’t blame me for wanting to know more about my employee. Doubt he would tell me about it himself. Gotta know about aaaall the baggage people have.”

He pulled his legs up to his chest, and sighed, voice lowering. “...Jack, stop talking to yourself.”

_Makes you sound lonely._

He wasn’t _lonely._ He even had company today! He was just taking his break, and read up on the brat to pass time. Now that that was done, it really was time to get back to work.

He left his lovely library without much disappointment, not as much as he would usually have. The library in his house was his second favorite thing in the world. However, right now, he had his first favorite thing to get to.

As he went down the steps to his basement, a skip in his steps.

He flipped the light on, a grin lighting up his face with it.

“Say, do you like kids?”

The man tied to the chair only gave a muffled sound in response.

Jack didn’t really know what that meant, so he just continued his thought. “Yeah, this kid- well, a _seventeen year old_ , but that’s still a kid in my book- recently became my sorta-responsibility. They’re real handfuls, teenagers! With the rebelliousness, and yet this need for attention at the same time? Apparently it’s normal. I wasn’t like that myself, but, you know. I’m not like a lot of things.” He smiled. “I’m sure you’ve caught on to that.”

“Anyway, enough about my silly problems,” Jack said, laughing slightly and making a dismissive gesture with the hand that didn’t have a knife in it. “I’m here for you right now. We’re going to talk about your problems, or really, your _mistakes_. And boy, have you made a lot of them to end up down here with me.”

***

Two of the big bosses in the syndicate were trying to kill each other. Apparently some kind of affair scandal had been uncovered. One of them had been sleeping with the other’s girlfriend, and someone had gotten pictures of it. The pictures, in the hands of some random jackass, were apparently at first used to try to blackmail the one with the girlfriend- but that guy cared more about going into a blind rage than keeping the whole thing a secret. So he had the blackmailer killed, and then was now after both his girlfriend and the other big shot she’d cheated with.

It was all a bit of a confusing mess to Jeff, who wasn’t even sure if the exact stories he heard through other low-level criminals were true or not- but they sounded realistic enough. It was a pretty classic, cliche kind of situation, just with more murder than usual. Jeff was trying to stay out of the way of the chaos that was going on that week. He felt lucky that, other than Jack, he wasn’t very aligned with any particular important person around. Jack’s advice to take small jobs from a lot of different people rather than be loyal to one or two had been good for him.

Jeff really wasn’t a fan of all this drama. He hoped they’d all kill each other and get it over with soon. Then, maybe they’d all forget about him too, and he could go back to his independance. He was made to be a serial killer, not a gang member. There were so many things he didn’t like about his current situation. Taking orders was a big one, although if they weren’t orders from Jack Eyrich, they usually weren’t as bad as he expected. Sharing glory for crimes was another thing, which was just as shitty as it sounded- kinda tied into the other issues, too.

Maybe it was all worth it if you clawed your way up in the ranks, and then got a bunch of other people to yell at.

If that was the case, Jeff thought he might understand Jack a little better. If that was even possible.

 


	5. attracted to danger in the figurative sense, not the human embodiment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack is happy and being nice, and Jeff is scared by that (and also having gay feelings on the side?).
> 
> Also basically: I'm only good at writing scenes where characters ramble about something, grin and laugh a lot, ignore personal space, and threaten people. It's my favorite type of scene to write, and honestly I'm way too predictable in that. But I think I'm moderately good at it, so I keep doing it. I should be more diverse in my writing, but I'm a big baby. 
> 
> I love having characters give other characters a bunch of mean nicknames.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hhhaha hey I wrote this in a passion fueled frenzy, what's up? pretty much spent all my day on it, and then I haven't gone through and checked for weird sounding wordings and typos yet, but I'll edit and update the notes about it when I do. for now, please do bear with me on that.
> 
> anyway! got some comments and felt encouraged to update. if you enjoy this, please do tell me, it makes me happy. also maybe tell me what specific things you like, so i can focus on them more if possible.
> 
> so while i do have in mind some places i'd like this fic to go, i was stuck for a while with how to do it and left it alone, but once i forced myself to get into it this was very fun to write again. this character dynamic is a good one.
> 
> i also added on a chapter i hadn't posted before earlier, but had already written, and added a thing to the end of the third chapter as well- so things will make more sense if you go back and reread that, or reread everything if you need to.
> 
> also this chapter is really long and uh. dang. a gift for being a loser that never updates things?

“The doc is here for you again.”

Jeff squinted down from his curled up, comfortable spot on a high up windowsill. How were his naps always so predictably interrupted? He had enough trouble sleeping just on his own as it was.

It was evening, the sky outside a nice golden color that was slowly melting into purple with the setting sun. Him and Jack usually interacted in the morning or afternoon. Jeff also quickly noticed that his sort of boss wasn’t even in the room, and blinked slowly as he pulled himself up. “So where _is_ he, then?” He scowled as a suspicion came to his mind. “...You didn’t just say that to get me to wake up, did you? Because that’s a really dirty move.” _And effective._

The other underling, which Jeff as usual couldn’t put a name to, looked genuinely offended by the accusation. “You kidding me? I wouldn’t make up lies about that guy, no chance! Especially not in front of _you_.”

Jeff went a bit still. He was halfway off his napping spot and in a bit of an awkward position, but couldn’t really focus on anything other than that comment. “Hey. What’s that supposed to mean? Don’t give me that face- I won’t fucking bite you, unless you _don’t_ tell me. What the hell does that mean?”

The lackey shifted, backing up a little, more towards the rooms. He’d probably make a run for it as soon as this conversation was over. “Isn’t it obvious? You’re Jack Eyrich’s pet. None of us want anything to do with that.” The tone was mild, not at all aggressive. All of these things were just facts, and nothing personal. That made it worse.

Jeff was silent for a moment, biting his tongue and trying not to spit out something impulsively. He matched the tone the other had just used. “Fair enough. I don’t want anything to do with any of you insignificant pieces of garbage either. You’re doing me a favor.”

Jeff smiled, then, very widely. It had none of Jack’s charm or precise intimidation, but Jeff was going for something different, so that was fine.

Small fry did flee the room after that, not so much running but definitely not hiding his alarm completely, leaving Jeff alone again.

Jeff deflated a bit, and finally hopped down to the floor. _Pet, huh_. He’d been called worse. A lot worse. He shook himself off quickly, there wasn’t any reason he needed to to think about that, not ever. Let those memories bleed together and fade until it was nothing more than a vague, dirty feeling in the back of his throat, and then just _gone_. Those things were already melting together, really, but it was the overall mark they’d left that offered the real issue.

Jeff smothered his own weakness as best he could, thinking of the color red, and looked for Jack.

After deciding Jack wasn’t anywhere indoors, Jeff went to the front door of the shelter. In retrospect, that was pretty straightforward, _normal_ behavior. And very weird for Jack, who seemed to prefer lurking around and then making his presence known through physical violence. Jeff wondered if he was going to get yelled at for making the doctor wait outside, so impolitely. Maybe this was a new guilting tactic?

Jeff swung open one of the double front doors (a little grand for a temporary criminal housing building, if you asked him), and there was Jack Eyrich. Standing there, all dressed up in a well fit navy blue suit that made his dark skin glow, and artfully tousled hair- with the weirdest look on his face.

He looked fucking _giddy_. And hell, he was already annoyingly handsome, and Jeff didn’t know exactly how old he was in the first place, but that made him look a lot younger than usual.

Jeff unconsciously made an ‘uh’ noise, half because just _what_ in general, but also because _why_ did he let that one thought grace his mind. He was only supposed to be attracted to danger in the figurative sense, not the human embodiment of it. Was Jack even human? He looked pretty human right then. And that was terrifying in a shiningly new way. Fantastic.

“I’m celebrating,” Jack purred, as if that explained everything.

“Is that… so?” Jeff said nervously, smile all discomfort. “Why?”

Jack laughed and waved a hand dismissively. “Maybe I’ll tell you at dinner. Come on.”

Jeff’s eyes kept getting larger. He shuffled out into the refreshing evening air, feeling very small and underdressed. Whatever was going on was surreal, especially seeing Jack hadn’t insulted him once yet, or really spoken as much as he usually does in general. But the cool air and overload of senses being outside sometimes brought settled Jeff a little more solidly in reality. Reality. How strange.

Jack grinned sunnily at Jeff ( _at_ him, that bit was important), and snaked an arm around his shoulders. A loose hold, not really trapping him or anything. A companionable gesture, if anything. Jesus christ. Something bad had to be happening soon, nothing could stay like this with Jack for long, right?

Did Jeff really know anything about this man?

Instead of turning them towards some hidden car, Jack just kept walking down the sidewalk, and Jeff’s anxiety rose. “Jack, what-”

“You’re fine with walking, aren’t you? It’s not too far,” Jack said, not really asking, but still more friendly than ever. Pretending to want his opinion (without another motive) was more than Jeff usually got. “This is a perfect evening. Look at that sky. Lovely.” Jack sighed pleasantly. “You haven’t made the time to explore our dear city at all, have you?”

“ _Jack_ -” Jeff tried, more urgently, beginning to stiffen.

Jack shushed him, still not the least bit irritable. Jeff felt the man’s fingers drift up and tangle into his hair, stroking carelessly every once in a while. _Jack Eyrich’s_ pet, Jeff thought.

“ _Jeff,_ ” Jack said back, teasingly, just the lightest sign of his usual condescension and mocking behavior. “Yes, I do in fact, understand. But you don’t need to be so concerned. It would work a bit better if you were a little more well groomed, but _my_ being that does enough on its own. I look respectable, do I not? And not overly threatening, not _gaudy_. No need for suspicion. If anyone says anything, I’ll take care of it. I promise.” He eyed Jeff. “People in this city, though, are already less likely to call the police. The comfortable ones want to stay comfortable, the _very comfortable_ ones are usually that way because of people like us. The uncomfortable- they either need to keep the option of going to us open, or they don’t want to be made even more uncomfortable.” Jack smiled. “It’s a nice city, Jeff.”

“It’s a nice city,” Jeff repeated, quietly, eyes slightly narrowed. Well, this was definitely Jack Eyrich, not some kind of doppelganger- that much was confirmed.

Admittedly, Jeff hadn’t done any exploring. Usually, that wasn’t even an option. Before he’d been coerced into this organized crime thing, he had been a damn serial killer, after all. Honestly, he still thought of himself as one, but he didn’t know if that was appropriate. He was working for others, doing things with a greater purpose, if you could call violent power plays that. When he’d signed up for this shit, he’d thought that he’d get out of it in a month or two, and then go back to his lone murderer situation (however cheesy that sounded). That had been… really naive. And now he was with Jack Eyrich. He wasn’t sure how easy it was to get away from him. He still didn’t regret the choice, even if he was only making himself believe that out of pure stubbornness. He didn’t regret what was happening, he just wasn’t sure how to deal with things being so purposeful and complicated.

His life plan and expectancy hadn’t been all that _complex_ before. Drown your personal suffering in the blood of others, run away, repeat. And maybe someday, Jeff had occasionally mused upon, he’d fuck up and get caught. He didn’t want to go to prison, not ever. He’d have to either kill himself or make a police officer kill him before that happened- it was a lesser evil in comparison. Honestly, offing himself might even be poetic.

He didn’t really want to die, most of the time, but it’d always been this possibility, even before he’d turned to murder. The ‘die of old age’ thing hadn’t been the expected thing, not since he was a little kid.

Now, while his death was likely to be at the hands of his own boss or another criminal, there seemed to be some sort of option to… stop and smell the roses, or something. Roses that aren’t just dead people or playing with knives. Why was Jack taking Jeff with him?

Jeff had forgotten this city was right on a beach. Along with the criminals, that made this city a perfect place for tourists and rich people. Jeff almost snorted out loud, but was still feeling very cautious of doing anything to mess up Jack’s good mood, no matter how stuck in it he seemed.

As the sun continued to fade away, stores became more lit up and bold. It was so strange just strolling, without a care in the world. Not staying out of sight, not plotting to snag someone in a crowd, not anything. Having a leisurely walk to dinner, supposedly, with a well dressed man that has his fingers threaded in Jeff’s hair.

Jeff’s face heated up, a mortified red settling in (and fucking christ, his skin was too damn pale from too much time spent hiding himself away and just naturally), and he tried not to cringe too much, even if the urge was _very strong_. This situation… didn’t feel… well, what it did feel like was really fucking gay. Slurs, not in his own voice, threatened to intrude into his thoughts, and he hated it. And he liked this. He liked that Jack was touching him, and smiling, and not insulting him for once. _Don’t have a panic attack, Jeff! Don’t you fucking dare, you piece of shit. Don’t think so much. It’s bad for you. Memories, especially, are bad for you._

That much he could agree with. He shouldn’t be even considering Jack in that light, either, but not because of what was beaten into him or anything. Not that. Never that, even if it was _there_. Because this was a special occasion, and he didn’t know why Jack was taking him along like this on some kind of weird date, but it wasn’t for the reasons Jeff’s suppressed teenage hormones really wanted. It was probably for entertainment, or Jack was lying about where they were going, or just… anything other than that. Jack was in a good mood, too good of a mood to put the effort into antagonizing Jeff, not because he was in any way fond of him. And Jeff wasn’t in any way fond of _Jack Eyrich_ as a person.

No. No, Jeff was just fond of being non-aggressively touched for the first time in… in a _really_ long time. He was touch starved, he guessed- even if mentally, he didn’t think he needed anything like that. Most of the time, he thought of murder as being pretty intimate (even if he wasn’t quite as intense in it as Jack was), so why would he need anything else? Why would a fucking killer want anything else? It didn’t seem to fit with that image. He liked it, but it also made him extremely uncomfortable. Made him feel like he was in danger, simply because he’d been taught, from experiences, that touching was for bad things- when other people did it to him, and when he did it to other people.

So that ‘something bad is going to happen’ feeling only clawed its way deeper into Jeff’s chest and stomach- but he did decide to allow himself to enjoy the petting while it lasted. Take what you can from others when it’s offered willingly, right? Even if it was going to come crashing down later. No regrets.

Regrets are pointless.

***

Jeff looked so painfully out of place, just like Jack thought he’d be, and it amused him to no end. If he acted like he was supposed to be there it wouldn’t be so bad, and nobody was going to complain as long as Jack was paying for them to be there, but it was really fucking funny to Jack. He made zero efforts to hide his mean spirited snickering. They were in the VIP room, and there weren’t any waiters currently around, so it didn’t matter.

Jack’s cheeks hurt, like they always did when actually smiled, unconsciously and genuinely. He was so happy, it hurt. In such a good way. Jeff mumbled irritably and looked over his menu, cheeks red (a detail Jack did in fact notice, and really would love to poke at, but not now).

“Fuck,” Jeff said, quietly. “Oh my god, the pricings. Are you going to-?”

“No,” Jack said, rolling his eyes. “No, it’s my treat. I will in no way say you have to pay me back for this, specifically, at a later date.”

Jeff stared at Jack like he was an alien.

Jack raised his eyebrows. “What, do you want me to sign a contract as proof?”

The younger criminal shook his head, glowering. “Like you couldn’t get out of a contract, or put something scary in the fine print.”

Jack shrugged, and kept smiling, lacing his fingers together and leaning his chin on them. “Nice view, don’t you think?”

“So you keep saying,” Jeff replied, look out the windows at the ocean. It was an open, clear view, and there weren’t any annoying people blocking it. Best room in the house, and closest to the sea, no distractions.

Jack grinned, just toothily enough to be a bit unsettling, crows feet forming at his eyes. Jeff’s gaze was now glued to him, and he didn’t even have to speak for that. He reveled in it, basked in pride and his own manic energy. “Do you know who used to just about own this room, and that view, kiddo? Do you _want_ to know? Just say you want to.”

Jeff thought about it for a moment, and came up with nothing. He took in a breath. “Does it have something to do with why you’re celebrating, or is this just small talk?”

“Small talk!” Jack repeated back, huffing out a laugh. _Cheeks hurt. Oh, it hurts._ “Jeffrey, Jeff, I don’t- I don’t really make small talk. That’s so cute.”

Jeff slumped in his side of the over glorified booth, and Jack briefly wondered if he was going to slide to the floor, or under the table. He giggled at the mental image. “Okay, I guess it’s the first thing then,” Jeff said begrudgingly. “Fine. Tell me.”

Jack clicked his tongue. “If you aren’t interested, you don’t have to listen.”

Jeff really did almost slide down out of his seat, and after that, almost sat with straight posture. It was a miracle. “You just… want to hear me say it, don’t you? I’m curious, happy? As long as we’re here and-”

Their waiter had reappeared to take their orders. Jack made Jeff order first, and helped him along with it when he started stuttering. He also showed off a challenging expression to the waiter, daring the person to even _look_ snooty and uppity over Jeff’s clear inexperience- but they had lived and worked in this city long enough to know better, it seemed. Any waiter assigned to this room rather had to be that way, but Jack couldn’t help but test these things. Jack gave his orders smoothly and easily, with a certain extra satisfaction clear in his voice, and the waiter gave them their privacy again.

“I was saying… as long as we’re here, and have time, why not.”

Jack lounged back against the comfortable seating, truly wanting to paint a beautiful memory of this moment in his mind. He relaxed, he let himself get true pleasure out of being where he was, and what it meant to him. Jeff. Jeff was here because he had to tell someone, had to share it. And he felt like he both had reasonable security with Jeff, and liked that Jeff was scared of him, but not fully submissive either. Realizing that he felt that way had been interesting, but he hadn’t been lying when had said he liked there to be a little fight in things. Not as much worth when you _win_ otherwise- and that was definitely relevant right then.

“We’re sitting where our former top dog used to sit, eat, and plan. Seeing his favorite view out the window, which he’ll _never see again_.”

“Used to- never again-” Jeff’s words caught in his throat, then lowered in volume quite a bit. “He’s dead.”

Jack’s eyes lit up, jewel blue bright and passionate, more alive than ever at being reminded that was a reality, hearing it from someone else’s mouth again and not just his own (because really, he’d repeated it a lot to himself once he’d confirmed it, then double checked to be absolutely certain). “He’s _dead_. Fucking slaughtered. Exterminated. God, how can saying all those synonyms feel so good?” Jack laughed so much his shoulders shook, his whole body shook and kept shaking. “Still hasn’t gotten old! It’s almost just as good as when I first found out! Fucking garbage had almost all of a machine gun emptied into him. I saw it myself! Got to examine the body! Bullet holes on every damn inch of him! You should’ve seen it, Jeff. His corpse should be in a _museum_.”

Jeff was very still, and very fixated on Jack. “And now we’re sitting in his favorite restaurant, in his spot.”

“ _Exactly_ , Jeff, exactly,” Jack said, leaning forward, almost pressing his chest to the table. “you could say it’s symbolic. Because it is, one hundred percent, just that. Now I know you must be… must be thinking ‘oh, doesn’t Jack like to make pain last, doesn’t Jack like to do it himself?’- as obviously, from what I’ve been saying, I didn’t do it myself. And shooting a guy up with a machine gun? Not my style at all, even if it’s really growing on me after this development. And all that would be true, under normal circumstances. And you don’t have context for this very special, not normal and everyday occurance, do you? With how excited I am, you must be getting a little suspicious, but you don’t _really_ understand. Nobody does.”

Jeff leaned back in his seat, away from Jack, although he really didn’t have much leaning room. “Are you going to tell me? Do you want me to understand, or are you just, um.”

Jack offered an affectionate look, and pulled himself back. He let Jeff relax a bit again, and then scooted over to his side of the booth, pressing up against the younger man. Jeff visibly tried not to cringe.

“Are you offering to talk about my feelings with me, sweetheart? I had no idea you cared so much. Or are you just trying to suck up to your boss? Well, I wouldn’t blame you for that, it’s a smart move, especially _now_. I’m only going up in the world, darling.”

Jeff bravely made eye contact with Jack, taking in the wicked look on his face. “You did this.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement.

“Think I should stuff the body, keep it as a trophy?”

Even Jeff, precious little serial killer, looked a bit sick at the suggestion. “But, how did… wasn’t there in fighting? I heard rumors. There was cheating, it was stereotypical.”

Jack ruffled Jeff’s hair with a sneaky hand. “Come now, Jeff. Think things through a little more. It isn’t actually that hard of a puzzle in the slightest, most are just too blinded by the drama and not looking at the origins. Hey, you even had a hand in it!”

That was the only clue Jeff needed, and on his face flashed recognition, then outrage. “Wait, shit, I knew it! I knew that job wasn’t as boring as it seemed!”

Jack huffed a laugh. “None of my jobs are boring, kid.”

“I should’ve realized, I mean, all the bullshit started going down right after that delivery- damn it. How did you know things would go like that?”

Jack scoffed in amusement. “Jeffrey… listen, if you go spreading this around, I will kill you, and before that, I will hurt you very badly. Say, how do you feel about being cooked alive? Maybe I wouldn’t even kill you, actually. I’ve started to like you, you know. So maybe I’d keep you, in a nice, tight, dark space. Maybe I’d start to e-” Jack quickly curled an arm around Jeff and tightened it, warningly, when he could feel the kid’s body getting ready to bolt. “Anyway. Long story short, bad things, threaten threaten, etcetera. I can explain in depth whenever, but right now, that’s not the point. I’m trying to teach you things here. I didn’t _know_ it would go that way. There’s no such thing as a perfect plan or prediction. You can get pretty close, but really being good at this shit means being flexible, making smart decisions on the spot sometimes, and keeping in mind that while humans are predictable idiots- well, when you’re smart, it’s sometimes hard to really predict how fucking stupidly people can react to things. Sometimes, this works to your advantage, sometimes it does the opposite.”

“Embrace the predictable unpredictableness?” Jeff said, trying to sound intelligent, even though he was clearly a bit stunned.

“No, Jeff, that’s too eloquent,” Jack said, patting the other mockingly. “the world’s a fucked up place, people are idiots, and when things go right you fucking revel in it and do everything you can to make it keep going right. Even if things are temporary. Well, being temporary… that doesn’t always take away the meaning from it at all.”

Jeff quieted down, and after a while, their waiter came back. Jack made no effort to detach himself from Jeff, showing no embarrassment or awareness of personal space. They ate too close together and didn’t care, and Jeff got sleepy from the rich food (even though he’d tried to order something simple and familiar from the expensive menu).

“Jack,” Jeff mumbled. “you… you ramble a lot. Like, a _lot_. You never told me why you planned, or um, really hoped your plans would get this guy killed.”

Jack half shrugged, eating habits just as elegant as Jeff had expected. “I’ll let that comment slide. What’s wrong with talking about it when I’m excited? But if you must know- and I’ll remind you again that I _will_ cut out your organs with a dull knife if you say anything about this to anyone, even though I wouldn’t have trouble discrediting your words- I have my ambitions. Truly, bragging that I stole that dead garbage’s VIP room at this lovely restaurant is nice, but it isn’t the end. It’s the beginning. Aren’t you glad you’re here to see it?”

“Dr. Eyrich,” Jeff said slowly. “are you going to be a tyrant?”

Jack laughed, a bit breathlessly. “Oh, nothing would make me happier, my dear, dear Jeffrey.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there were a few teeny tiny references to things/future things in the chapter. just a few.
> 
> also i want to tell everyone that over time and with character developement, jack will be shown as a bit more multidimensional/possibly softer and jeff will definitely get more vicious (since sometimes, it's a bit silly feeling that he's the less violent of the two.) 
> 
> of course jack and jeff have very different types of 'violent' and 'bloodthirsty' that they are, just already as a fact, and i hope that shines through my writing since i find it important! 
> 
> they also still have plenty of interesting backstory things to flesh out. i feel like i'm absolutely using these two to play around with emotions and complexity. and i'm definitely writing jeff more interestingly than i have in other things. 
> 
> it's fun and i hope my versions of these characters aren't too strange/out of character for people!
> 
> but i'll repeat again that jack has a lot more complexity than is immediately obvious, he's not just 'smirky violent trashlord' in this fic. the way i write him in my other large clusterfuck of a fic and intensely headcanon him as being will come into play here as well!
> 
> these two have a lot going on and i love it
> 
> ok i'm sorry for writing so much in the summary and two notes and everything oh my god but i have too many thoughts and i'm still running on exhilaration here, i'm actually tired and rambly. i'm rambly just like jack is rambly.


	6. repression, depression, fake it 'til you make it!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack struggles with unwanted emotions and shocks, pulling the curtain back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I-IT'S BEEN A MILLION YEARS. I cannot believe I did this. Very spontaneous lmao. I keep getting really lovely comments on this despite not having updated it and I'm super flattered, especially since when I reread it I cringe?? This is a small chapter but what I had planned before, I think. Baby teen me didn't do outlines. And since there's been an interest in Jack perspective, this is an interesting toe-dip into it.

Blurred lights swam in Jack’s vision for a moment as he stirred awake, streaming in from the streets as it grew darker and darker outside overall. When he’d drifted off— right onto the pages of his poor textbook— the jukebox had been on, and the drone of laughing, dancing and chatter from faces he could never remember was enough to put him to sleep. Now, only a gentle clatter, the sound of running water.

He shut the book after smoothing out the pages, only stopping to trace his fingers along the edges of some of the artwork. It was beautiful. He could remember a tiny, earnest voice asking him why real hearts didn’t look like her cartoons, and laughing so hard he’d nearly spilt his water everywhere.

“Mom?” Jack called out, covering a yawn. “Where’s—?“ And although he was sure there’d been a name, it was fuzzy, _fuzzy._

Someone answered, surprised though keeping the sink going. “Jack? I’ve been working all night, honey!” The tone quickly dipped into concern, “I thought she was with you, that you’d both gone home already!” She turned the sink off. “Are you getting sick? Did something happen…?”

Panic rose, and more so than that, _embarrassment_. He knew that voice, it meant he’d failed, was small— that— “Nothing happened. I got a bit overwhelmed.” For how many times this year? Hadn’t he meant to end it the last time, and the time before that, to stop fucking shutting down like he was an alien unable to cope with any of this— _noise?_

He could _hear_ the buzzing, the way a person you hated could crawl up your spine like a million squirming maggots and try to eat at you because they’d found something impossible to understand, impossible to be, only real to hate and adore, only able to touch it with those filthy hands if they…

Jack didn’t wait to hear his mother’s response, knew she couldn’t follow him like this. If she didn’t stay to clean up, it’d be an easy excuse to fire her, and they were always looking for an excuse. His cheeks flushed. Guilt was a rare, fleeting, and terribly painful emotion. He pushed it away as quickly as he could, but it left him too shy to say any ‘I love you’s on his way out. He hadn’t earned the right, didn’t want to dishonor the phrase by claiming it in one of _these_ moods. As soon as he’d stuffed everything in his bag, he bolted.

Even after yelling for his sister… _no, no, no_ … he was greeted simply by deadness, barely a cricket out that night, barely stars. Barely anything resembling a positive emotion in his chest, dipping down further than it usually went, and it usually went _far_. Jack dragged his fingers down his face, nails sharp. He called her emergency phone, the one he’d helped save up to get. Nothing. He scratched at his scalp aimlessly while rushing through their route home, looking in every alley. He thought about— earlier, when he’d last seen her. He thought about the faces as hard as he could, forced them to clear, forced himself to let reality spill in.

He saw bad faces. Stupid, disgusting, repulsive faces of little boys who didn’t know how to fucking grow up and learn not to act like their past-the-expiration-date trash fathers and grandfathers. Jack punched a concrete wall until there was faint blood over the graffiti, mouth tightly shut and muffling screaming, shaking with both a terror and anger he’d never had as such a rush.

After that, he went home to get the knife he kept beneath his mattress.

***

Jack unclenched his hands from his sheets. He stared upwards, then rolled to the side and reached down to gently feel for his knife. Still there. Same as ever. Safe as ever. Awful as ever. He curled up under the blankets, did a few breathing exercises, and went back to sleep.

He had a lot of work ahead of him. It was time to stop being so weak. If he rebuilt himself with tools, money, loyalty and _fear,_ perhaps there’d be a day where he wasn’t ruled by the long dead and gone. By his failures.


End file.
